Home Videos
by charliethedreamer
Summary: Captain Swan fic: Family fluff where Emma watches home videos made by Henry.


_A/N: This is shameless family fluff product of a hyperactive muse and exams that are not being revised for. _

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It's the third time that Liam complains about the disappearance of his Game Boy, and the fourth time that Emma opens a cupboard only to have the entire contents spill out of it (she imagines someone – namely Killian, god damn him – stuffing every last thing into it and then quickly shutting the door) when Emma decides that a clean out of the to-be-quite-frank _health hazard _that is the two cupboards that sit in the living room is long overdue due.

It's attempting to achieve this near impossible task – impossible because of her children and their tendency to hoard board games and then to mix up every last component of said board games – when she comes across an unfamiliar DVD case with the words _home videos _scrawled carelessly onto the front in black marker. She recognises the handwriting as belonging to Henry – her heart clenching because she _misses _him whilst he's away at college – and lifting up the _Monopoly _and _Cluedo _boxes she pries the case away from its wedged position in the cupboard.

Running her fingers along the edge of the case the not _too _distant memory swims before her vision – the video camera she'd got Henry as his birthday present, the overloaded memory card, burning the footage onto a disc – and a smile flirts at the corners of her lips as she heaves herself up into a standing position – legs shaky from kneeling too long – kicking chess pieces out of her way as she moves to the TV.

She sits herself down in front of it, reaching back to the couch and grabbing a cushion from it, lifting herself up and tucking her legs under herself to sit on the cushion cross-legged. Tidying task temporarily abandoned – she muses she can get Liam and Hope to sort it out, it is _their _games cupboard after all – picks up the DVD case and pulls out the disc.

Jabbing at buttons until it opens, she slips it into the player, pushing it shut and rocking back into her sitting position, looking up at the screen like a child at the cinema. There's a pause before the TV comes to life, a room shaking as someone – she presumes Henry – fumbles with the camera. The image straightens out, the room coming into focus being quickly identifiable as the one she sits in currently. There's one main difference – the room that plays on the screen is empty.

She watches with a soft smile as she comes into the view of the camera, cardboard box with the label _clothes_ in her arms and she recognises it at as the day they moved into this house; the floors look dusty and she – a younger version of herself, mind – looks tired, turning around and noticing with a reproachful expression the camera that films her. "Really?" She says to the unseen teenager. "You're filming this?"

"We're moving!" He argues from behind the shot, camera panning around the room that's empty save the kitchen cabinets that stand to the right and the large windows and window seat off at the far end. "I'm excited."

Shuffling and scraping can be heard as the camera moves sharply to the door where Killian – Emma's smile from where she sits watching grows – moves through the door, arms laden with boxes that he quickly offloads onto the floor. "Bloody heavy, that _cutlery._" He mutters, rolling his shoulders back and even from the camera Emma can see his blue eyes moving over the room.

"You like it?" The her on the video says and Killian's smile widens – that crooked one he does that even _now_ makes her insides squirm – as he moves over to her.

"It's perfect." He says, taking hold of one of her hands with his. Using it, he spins her around, the startled laugh that escapes her as he does so ringing happily through the television speakers and Emma smiles, cocking her head to the side slightly as she watches Killian pull her to his chest, swaying them to music that isn't even _there_ and she looks so happy, smile bright as her husband – then, fiancé – ducks his head, pressing his lips against hers. The camera even picks up Henry's groan as it's swiftly averted to the floor before more fumbling sounds and it screen switches to black.

The blank screen lasts for a moment before another scene lights up, the same room as the one prior. She muses it must have been shot a few weeks after, the furniture now in place but still with some stray boxes here and there. The camera focuses and the sofa – the one she now sits in front of – becomes clear, as do her and Killian. She's sitting sideways on the sofa with her legs crossed, back against its high arm. Killian is lying across it, his head in her lap and her hands are in his hair, stroking through it as she looks down on him with a soft smile on her face.

It's a moment – her and Killian talking about something the camera can't quite pick up – that makes her heart swell. The way they just look so _peaceful _– her laugh and the roll of her eyes, his _ow _indignant as she flicks him – and as she watches it she can't even bring herself to linger on the fact that Henry was – unbeknownst to them – filming and that she must have been pretty clueless – or maybe just stupidly in love (as she is now) – not to notice.

It lasts for a few more seconds before the camera switches in the same manner as before, black screen lingering before a new scene appears onto the screen and Emma shifts slightly on her cushion, twisting her wedding band around her finger as a new scene pops up onto the camera. It's of all of them at Grannies – her parents, Regina, Robin, Roland, her, Killian, Ruby and pretty much _everyone_ – all huddled round a birthday cake, Happy Birthday David iced onto the top and Emma bites her lip as their rendition of _Happy Birthday _– most of them (save Killian, talented idiot that he is) horribly out of tune – plays through the speakers, camera shaking slightly.

At the end David leans forward – _I don't need a birthday cake, my ass –_ her mother's hand on his back, blowing out the candles and everyone cheers, the TV screen a vision of happiness and she spots herself and Killian, her cheering and clapping and smiling with the rest of them with his arms wrapped around her waist. His head dips down and he nuzzles the side of her neck, her bemused _Killian _visible but not audible over the raucous of the scene as paper plates are handed round.

The camera switches to later that night, this time staying still and she can _just about _recall the day, remembers seeing the camera perched on top of the counter with its blinking green light. It provides a view of the whole diner, shows the half eaten cake as everyone stands around, Regina and Robin engaged in quiet conversation to the left of the shot with Henry and Roland bouncing around. She scoffs when she spots Victor and Ruby through the mess of people, engaged in what can only be described as a furious lip-lock.

Someone brushes past the camera, knocking it to the side so it falls on the booths that line the side and it's here that she – with Killian of course – comes into the camera shot. She's sitting on the table, hands curled round the edge of and he's sitting opposite, leaning back in the booth with that lazy charm that he carries, plaid button down open carelessly over a black t-shirt, hands squeezing softly at her calves as they dangle over the table and the memory swims to the front of her mind as she watches, thinking to music and darts and feeding him cake off her fingers –

The video switches again, the crowds of people and hum of chatter and laughter being swapped with a large well lit room, round tables with white tablecloths visible at the end of the shot, the camera being moved – she presumes Henry is carrying it once more – about the room, couples dancing in the centre at the event which she immediately recognises as Belle and Gold's wedding.

The camera moves around the room (she notices with a smile that by this point in the series of videos Henry's skills with the handheld have improved significantly), zooming in on Belle and Gold on where they dance in the centre of the room, moving over to where Regina stands with Robin, Roland in her arms and a bright smile on her face.

It's here that he starts walking, moving around until he comes up to stand by Mary Margaret, who looks out on the scene with contentment in her eyes and David's arms around her waist. "Hey, Henry." She says to the face behind the camera. She looks to the lens. "Hey, camera." She adds, smiling into her wine glass.

"What are you guys talking about?" Henry asks. David nods to somewhere on the other side of the room, but it's his dark-haired wife who speaks again.

"How cute your mom and Killian are." She says and Henry turns – and with him, the camera – and he zooms in on a table on the far side of the room. The camera focusses, the blurry quality to the screen disappearing to show Emma sitting on Killian's lap, his hands resting on her hips. Her hands are in his hair, pulling at the thick strands and she remembers – remembers complaining about how _long _it is and how he _really _should let her cut it. She wants to roll her eyes at the stubborn pout the camera picks up; only that she doesn't get the chance. It's here that she – she on the video – lifts her head, surveying the room. Her eyes lock with the camera and – _god _she must have had too much champagne or something – she flips Henry the bird.

The last things that play on the recording are Killian's laughter, Henry'ssnort and a disapproving _Emma _from her mother.

The next video is from thanksgiving – all of them sitting round a table, stories and debates and random conversation going back and forth – and no time stamp is even needed, she can identify the year simply from her slightly swollen stomach as she stands up out of her chair to pass the bread to Robin.

The next videos on the DVD – she notes to herself – show nicely the progression of her pregnancy. Christmas with crackers and a rather sloppily decorated tree and it's like an explosion of green and red and gold, turkey and presents; a vision of delight with Emma's stomach looking just that little bit more rounded.

Then it's Killian and David playing chess – she recalls some stupid bet they had going – and her and her mother are visible in the background – a wine glass pointedly absent from Emma's hand – their loose conversation and relaxed dispositions juxtaposing nicely with the expressions of stern concentration on the faces of their respective men.

Then it's one of them at the beach, Henry and Roland splashing about and she can tell it's Killian who's manning the camera from the way that he persistently zooms in on her face, "_smile, Swan" _audible as she rolls her eyes, pushing the camera away with a hand that lacks conviction, smiling and rubbing her stomach as his chuckle sounds from behind the camera.

Emma is halfway through the next one – Mary Margaret's camera skills to thank in this case – which shows Henry, David and Killian playing baseball in the garden, sun blaring down on them when there's shuffling and chatting at the door and she looks up from her sitting position as Killian, Hope and Liam stumble through the door, shrugging off rain splashed coats.

"Did you have fun with your dad?" She calls, smiling at the chorused _yeah! _that they let out as Liam goes for the cupboard (she knows it's for pop tarts) whilst Hope waits for her older brother – who is now a nightmare of seven years – to retrieve their favourite snack.

"What you watching, love?" Killian asks as he comes up behind her.

"Videos that Henry took." She says, casting him an over the shoulder glance as he sits himself down beside her, resting his elbows on his knees. They watch for a bit – another Thanksgiving and another Christmas, memories that swim trouble and mess and _joy _and it's everything she's ever wanted – a _family _and a _home _and she makes a mental note to thank Henry – call him if necessary (not that he's likely to pick up) – for doing all this, taking down these memories.

"Who's that?" A voice says from behind her and she turns her head to find Liam there, standing and nodding to the baby in the video.

"That's you, kid." She says as Hope stumbles onto the scene, an arm around her waist dragging her in between her father's legs and she squeals, his chuckle rich as Liam settles into her side.

"We've had some good times." She comments quietly, her son's first birthday shining brightly on the screen in a tangle of colours and bunting and _family –_

"With many more to come." Her husband promises, tangling their fingers together.

_Yeah. _She thinks, watching as the fourth of July plays across the screen, fireworks lighting up the dark sky, bright and loud and she knows that this – these memories, these _people, _the people she _loves – _they're not going anywhere. No matter what – no matter how many curses and villains and whatever turn up – she'll always have her family.

"I know." She replies, smiling as Killian brings their entwined hands to his lips.

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_A/N: Review?_


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